Iron Rings and Golden Chains
by Nutcase friend
Summary: A modern twist on A Song of Ice and Fire. The plot line is similar, but large differences because of the world they live in, with cars and cheap lighters. The Hound is still grumpy, Joffrey is still mean, Sansa still delicate, and Arya still a feisty young girl. Characters are the same and so are the general events, but all set in modern times. The first part will only be a preview


_One-shot to start the story. This is literally just for myself in a way, to get used to writing for a modern world. In the end, I will be writing almost the whole story of The Song of Ice and Fire in modern terms, and with many changes. If you like this small one-shot, please review because I will be continuing, but starting from the start. I am warning you, this will be more detailed when i continue it, and the most basic of its storyline will be based off the books, because I read them, but haven't seen all the show yet. Please let me know what you think._

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Arya scrambled through the crowds, being pushed and knocked about by buttocks and belly's and belted waists. She would tense her jaw every time somebody stepped on her foot, but kept her mouth closed stubbornly. Even if she cried out, no one would have cared, so there was no point in letting these pathetic weaknesses get to her.  
Arya finally broke away into a familiar ally. The light around her faded into shadow once she left the open pathway, and immediately found herself breathing easier. She was still trying to get used to so many people, crowds rushing back and forth, talking and laughing and yelling, the smell of the rubbish and pollution in the air, everything being so close and so _harsh._ However annoying it was, Arya was growing used to it quicker than she'd like.

The light was fading, the crowds only just starting to thin, when Arya leaned against an ally wall and rested. She'd been running all day, chasing feral cats through the streets. She'd been after that particularly angry one when she'd noticed the time, and had quickly abandoned the task to get back to the estate before her father got worried. She had left her small phone in her room again. Her teacher, Syrio, taught her that those things were distractions and contraptions that would ruin her training. Besides, no matter how small and light the phone was, she could still feel the weight in her pocket, and it bothered her. No true water dancer would have such things weighing them down.

Arya cut through the back ally's she had come to know well, passing pubs, dodgy houses that were probably meth labs, and even waved to a familiar prostitute standing outside of a cheap brothel. She never feared the homeless or the dirty and deranged men and women who only ever came out at night. She was too quick for them, and she had a small knife shed found hidden in her blue denim jacket. She didn't pull her cap down like many would, because she needed all of her senses working to avoid getting loss, however unlikely that was. And, just because she didn't fear the adults of the night, it didn't mean they saw her as a target, and putting down her cap would only make it harder to spot possible get away places.

It was another hour and half by the time she got back to the estate of her uncle Robert, although she had been distracted watching a street performance of two men doing a mixture between martial arts and dance, and had gone into a pet store to stroke the puppies, once again remembering her Nymeria.  
Baratheon estate was huge, to say the least. Technically many estates connected together, Robert had his own world on in there, although he would prefer to spend his time in the pubs, brothels and go out hunting far to the West, taking compound bows and modern spears. Set only a few kilometres out of the main part of the city, he also had a whole park surrounding the grounds, with open grass parts, and dense wood areas, with ponds and even a private stream which was protected from the city's disgusting pollution, so it was clear and lovely.

The guards at the cast iron gate were in black suits and had sunglasses on, even though the sun was almost down. They had ear pieces in, and were trying to look as menacing as possible, although the Grounds head of Security, Sandor, nicknamed the Hound, would have been far more affective, with his burn scars, stone eyes and hulking body. He had a far better sense of humour, darker and with edge, and would have at least recognised Arya.  
These buffoons tried shooing her away before she managed to angrily convince them she was the daughter of their master's Council member.  
Who, as Arya had predicted, was angry at her late arrival.


End file.
